


Made For It

by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)



Series: Made For It [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/tealeaf523
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first mistake, Terry thought miserably, was waterproof mascara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made For It

His first mistake, Terry thought miserably, was waterproof mascara.

It was blue, you see.

However, when he actually thought about it, his first mistake had been sneaking into the girls’ dorm over the holidays when he should have been studying for his O.W.L.s.

But Terry had never been a good Ravenclaw, and so studying in February for a June exam seemed a little overkill.

But, of course, so was the rouge and lip-gloss. And the girl’s knickers—pink and lacey—that hugged his arse like a second skin. He wore nothing else.

Oh, _God_ , he was done for.

Somehow, while rummaging through a couple belongings left behind, he’d found one privacy charm…

…that glued his palms to the low surface of the one trunk left behind in the circular room.

He whimpered for what felt like the billionth time, having dwelt on his current predicament for the last hour.

I mean, really, what else can you think of when you’re cross-dressing and glued (bent over) to a trunk?

He would have to wait until someone came around to fix this mess… and then laughingly tell all their friends.

Well, at least there were no girls who could walk in on him.

Which, now that he was thinking about it didn’t sound much worse than a boy—

The door slammed open, startling Terry out of his musings and into a screeching, “Fucking shit!”

Anthony Goldstein, Golden Boy of Ravenclaw and Head Boy of the school, stood stock still at the door, one hand still on the door handle and the other holding his wand.

There was never another time in his life when he had been more mortified. He'd nearly choked out a 'Of all the people in Ravenclaw Tower...'

The seventh-year stared unabashedly for a moment before shaking his wavy blond hair out of his face and closing the door behind him. “Do you need help?" he finally said.

“Please,” Terry fairly whimpered. Over his shoulder he saw the boy smirk and walk slowly toward him, kneeling down at the trunk and murmuring a detection spell.

“Snooper’s Sticking Charm. You should be more careful, next time,” he said flippantly, glancing at Terry with his blue-green eyes, twirling his wand about to counter the spell and standing again, folding his arms.

It didn’t help that the man was gorgeous—he practically exhaled masculine grace. And it didn’t help that Terry’d found him attractive ever since he’d found out he, er… played for the other team. And it _really_ didn’t help that he was madly in love with him. Quite madly.

“Does it look like I do this on a regular basis?” Terry snapped, finally pulling his sweaty palms from the surface and letting them fall to fidget at his sides, straightening up and trying to look dignified.

Goldstein just stared pointedly at him.

“Yeah, don’t answer that.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Anthony replied, pocketing his wand and refolding his arms.

“…I would really appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”

Goldstein hummed noncommittally.

“Please,” Terry pleaded, wanting to vomit. “I’ll do anything. I can’t… I’ll have enough trouble surviving two more years being taunted for being me, let alone for being a pouf.”

Anthony, who Terry realized towered over him by about a head, his wide shoulders tapering into a narrow waist and strong legs as one looked him over (not that Terry was looking, uhm, at the moment), was silent for several moments, just staring. His teal eyes were burning into Terry’s with a strange intensity that made the fifth-year want to crawl into a hole and die. “Anything, you say?” he finally murmured.

“Well, not anythi—”

“Suck me off.”

“Wuh—what?”

“I’ll keep your secret if you suck me off. Your lips were fucking made for it.”

“I… Uhh—”

“Look, if you weren’t so damned cute, Terry, I’d have just walked right out of here. And then there would have been no promises.”

“You… you want me to suck your…?”

“I’ll not tell a soul,” Anthony said, looking down into Terry’s terrified face, still done up with blush and mascara and cherry-red lips.

This would surely induce a panic. “I’ve never…”

The older boy seemed to take pity on him (Terry’s heart was beating so fast he thought he’d have an attack) and pulled him closer. “C’mere,” he said. “Let’s start with a kiss, then, shall we?” Anthony brushed Terry’s hair away from his eyes and leaned down to capture his lips in the most beautiful kiss Terry would ever experience (it was decided, then and there).

Terry nearly shook with excitement and nerves as Anthony wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled Terry flush against him, slipping his tongue across the seam of the other’s lips.

“Hmm,” Goldstein hummed. “Raspberry.”

Terry gasped, and suddenly a clever, slick tongue invaded his mouth, tracing his teeth and sweeping over the roof of his mouth, giving him the shivers. His hands came up to fist in the material of Goldstein’s button down, and Terry tentatively quested into the other’s mouth, encouraging a satisfied moan from Anthony’s lips. He was squeezed still tighter against the buttons of the crisp white shirt and suddenly was walking backwards, the backs of his knees hitting a four-poster on the opposite side of the room in record time.

Terry sat with a soft thump and was accosted by Anthony’s lips once more, although those strayed across his jaw and down his neck, where the Head Boy preceded to suck and lick to his heart’s content. Terry found himself whimpering pathetically and squirming on the lush fabric of the comforter as Anthony leaned over him.

“Now,” the other boy said breathily, “you do the same to me.”

“M’kay,” Terry murmured, looking briefly up into those deep blue-green eyes and blushing. He tentatively kissed down Anthony’s neck, pausing to suck and lick when he found a particularly vocal spot, and found his confidence building as the freaking love of his life moaned under his attentions.

This time he took the initiative and unbuttoned the other’s shirt, continuing down his immaculate chest, abs rippling and contracting as Terry ghosted his fingers over the other’s sun-kissed skin. How the hell Goldstein stayed this glorious during winter was beyond him.

Suddenly, he was at the other’s belt, Anthony’s hand combing through Terry’s clean-cut brown hair as he paused, fingers skimming across the leather. He was kneeling on the floor now, peering up through blue lashes at the flushed face of Anthony bloody Goldstein. Who was showing him how to snog a boy. A _boy_!

Who knew?

“S’alright, Terr.”

Terry spared one more look at that gorgeous face, but Anthony was quicker. The older boy eagerly unbuckled his belt and dropped trou like he’d been waiting for months to have this chance.

And then Terry was staring at his cock, full-on, a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip as it bobbed up against his stomach. He allowed a brief moment of ‘I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this!’ before he took Anthony in hand, squeezing his prick like he would his own, and kneeling up to engulf the head fully between his lips.

He distantly heard Anthony give a stifled moan, but he was too caught up in sensations of his own to give it much thought.

Oh, he _was_ made for this!

He gently bobbed his lips up and down over Anthony’s shaft, gradually taking more of him in with each thrust of his lips. Anthony was steadily groaning overhead, murmuring words like ‘Raspberry lips’ and ‘Fucking made for this’ and ‘Ohh, Merlin, Terr!’ as Terry did what he was made for.

Who knew?

Suddenly, he was very eager to please, and tried engulfing the entire length into his mouth, but ended up choking as the head slipped on the back of his throat. He quickly withdrew, hearing Anthony’s, “Steady now,” even as the other boy tightened his grip in his short-cropped hair.

Terry slipped Anthony’s cock into his mouth almost immediately, as he was a Ravenclaw and a quick study, not one to make the same mistake twice.

It was then he realized how hard his own prick was, straining tightly against the pink lace of ‘his’ knickers, and he moved his hips in time with the bob of his head. He moaned around Anthony’s cock when he managed to snake a hand down to rub his own through the fabric, causing a choked whimper from above.

He worked vigorously and began squeezing the base of Anthony’s cock with his hand while working as much into his mouth as possible, keeping a tight grip with his lips. With a final twist of his wrist, Anthony came, causing him to nearly gag again as the salty liquid dripped down his throat.

He slowly withdrew and took a heaving breath, and suddenly he was pulled up into the other’s arms straddling Anthony’s spent prick. The Head Boy seized Terry’s lips in a desperate, hazy kiss and ripped the panties away from his body, fisting his cock in one hand while the other caressed the nape of Terry’s neck.

Terry moaned girlishly into Anthony’s mouth, and soon came all over the other’s perfect stomach, his orgasm seeming to last an eternity although grounded to earth by strong, possessive arms.

Slowly he came to his senses and received a lazy smile and a chaste kiss, and then Anthony was pushing him off onto the side of the bed and re-buttoning his clothing.

The Head Boy conjured a tight black v-neck sweater and a pair of fitted, faded denims from the scraps left of Terry’s—erm, _the_ —knickers and silently handed them to him, watching as he hastily Scourgified the area and threw on the new clothes.

Finally, they stared at one another for a long moment.

Terry couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile.

Anthony just smirked and turned toward the door. “Don’t let me catch you again, Boot.”

Terry was too excited to censor the words that sprouted from his mouth next. “And what if you do, then?”

“There’s no telling what will happen.” Goldstein smirked and turned the knob to the stairwell. Before he disappeared behind the oak door, he murmured, “Check your pocket.”

He found a note in his new denims, folded twice, that read:

_Meet me tomorrow night in the Charms classroom. We’ll need to work on your skills with a wand._

Terry left the girls’ quarters in a cheery mood, not even bothering to remove the make-up as he practically skipped to the library.

Maybe he would study, after all.


End file.
